


Sundog

by Teuthida



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Bad Decisions, Consent Issues, Loneliness, Long Hair, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Painful Sex, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 06:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18244028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teuthida/pseuds/Teuthida
Summary: "Your hair is just like hers, Vitya." Yakov's voice still held a slight slur. "Long and soft and beautiful."Yakov wasn't dealing well with Lilia leaving him.





	Sundog

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the prompt "seducing a teenager to feel less lonely", so, uh. Yes.

Two weeks after his 18th birthday and one week after Lilia had walked out the door, Victor found Yakov slumped over a bottle of vodka when he got home from Makkachin's evening walk. 

"She's gone, Vitya," Yakov slurred. "Gone."

"She'll be back," Victor said, slowly taking the bottle out from under his arm. "She's always come back before."

Yakov shook his head. "I think this might be it. I think…." He trailed off and reached for his bottle, frowning when he noticed it was missing.

Victor sighed. He pulled Yakov out of his chair and led him down the hall to his and Lilia's bedroom. "Things will look better in the morning," he said with a confidence he didn't feel. 

"I hate sleeping alone," Yakov grumbled as he got into bed. "It's so cold."

Victor looked at him. Someone really should look after him tonight, and he was the only option. He resigned himself to an awkward and uncomfortable night, and stripped down to his underwear and got into the bed beside him. "Better?"

"Mmm," Yakov mumbled, and went to sleep. 

Victor woke in the middle of the night, Yakov's arm tight around his waist and his face buried in Victor's hair. He was hard, grinding against Victor's ass. Victor swallowed hard and tried to pull away. 

Yakov held tight. "Your hair is just like hers, Vitya." His voice still held a slight slur. "Long and soft and beautiful. She always has it down at night, like you do. I love the way it feels against my skin."

Then he let go of Victor's waist, swept some of his hair to the side, and kissed the back of his neck. Victor froze. "...Yakov?"

"You're so pretty, Vitya. Your hair is like silk. Please. Please let me." Yakov started kissing his way down Victor's back, his hand combing through Victor's hair. It felt soothing and weirdly exhilarating. 

Yakov was still drunk, Victor thought wildly. He must be. "Yakov, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice shaky. Yakov's fingers came up to comb over his scalp, and Victor forced himself not to lean back into it. 

"Don't want to be alone," Yakov mumbled. He ran his other hand up and down Victor's side and pressed more kisses down Victor's spine. Victor was starting to get hard in spite of himself. "Your hair, Vitya, please. I need you." Yakov's fingers crept down to Victor's underwear and slipped inside. 

Victor shivered. No one had ever actually touched him there before, let alone told him they needed him. His dick was starting to throb. He wanted this. He knew it was a bad idea, but right now, he wanted it. "Okay," he said quietly, and lifted up his hips so Yakov could pull his underwear off.

"Vitya," Yakov groaned. "Look at you. So beautiful. Your hair, and your ass. So pretty." He moved Victor so that he was face down on the bed, and Victor trembled with the new knowledge of how much he liked being controlled like that. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. 

Yakov put one hand on the small of his back, and Victor's entire body seemed to be centered at the warmth of it. He heard and felt Yakov lean over and get something out of a bedside drawer, but he couldn't let himself think about it. He shivered. 

Then there was the snick of a plastic flip-cap, and a wet, slick finger pushing into his ass. It was weird and foreign, and Victor didn't know if he liked it. But Victor was used to pushing through things that made him uncomfortable, and Yakov needed him. He breathed in, trying to relax. 

Yakov crooked his finger, and Victor cried out as a jolt of pleasure shot through him, muffling the sound into the pillow. "There you go," Yakov said. "There you go, Vitya."

Yakov did it again and again, and Victor whimpered and wailed into the pillow. He'd never felt like this before, never done this to himself. He was lost to the sensation. He never wanted it to stop. 

Yakov's finger pulled out, and Victor whined at the loss. "Shh, Vitya." Yakov combed his hand through Victor's hair again. "Just a moment." Then there was something big and blunt pressed against him, and Victor tried not to shake. He wasn't scared. He wasn't. 

Yakov pressed inside, and Victor panted, trying not to cry out. It burned. It hurt like a cold muscle stretched too far, and Victor tried to breathe through it. To relax. His breath hitched as he felt the scratch of Yakov's pubic hair against his ass. 

"So tight," Yakov said, his voice breathy. "So tight and perfect. Your hair is fanned out so beautifully over your back, Vitya."

Victor clung to the pillow and his words. He could be beautiful for Yakov. He could breathe through the pain and smile, just like he did on the ice. Yakov pulled out and thrust in again, the burn lessening only slightly. Victor was getting fucked. He wasn't a virgin anymore. He took a shaky breath and tried to embrace the pain for what it was. 

Yakov mumbled something under his breath, and when he thrust in a third time, the angle had changed and the pleasure was back, intense and almost shocking. Victor couldn't help the cry he muffled in the pillow. 

He'd never thought being fucked could feel like this, the pleasure and the pain combining into something more, something he didn't think he'd ever get enough of. It was like the satisfaction of a nailed landing, the tired exhilaration of a perfect skate, and the high of winning Olympic gold combined, and Victor never wanted to leave this moment. 

He let the waves of pleasure wash over him as Yakov fucked him, noises he couldn't control coming out of him. Time felt like it was at a standstill. There was nothing in the world but Victor, Yakov, and the connection between them. 

But every wave eventually crashes against the shore, and Victor came with a muffled wail, untouched. It felt oddly unsatisfying - he wanted Yakov to reach around, to guide him through it. But he didn't. Victor whimpered, the high of the moment gone and the slight burn of Yakov's thrusts returning. 

"So beautiful," Yakov muttered. "Your hair is so lovely." He thrust in one more time. "Oh, Lilia," he breathed out with a sigh, and came.

Victor felt tears well up in his eyes like shame, and said nothing as Yakov pulled out, the burn making him want to cry out. He continued saying nothing as he heard Yakov lay back down, as Yakov's breath evened out, as he began to snore. 

Victor clung to his pillow, wide awake, feeling cold and tired and used, until he heard Makkachin beginning her morning and needing to be taken out. He stood up, wincing at the new and different pain in his ass and flushing as he felt some of Yakov's come dribble down his thigh. 

He got dressed quickly and quietly, not wanting to wake Yakov. He just needed some time alone. He needed to think. He grabbed Makkachin's leash from by the door and led her outside. He wandered for far longer than he normally would, trying to get used to the burn in his sore ass. He needed something this morning. He just didn't know what. 

He turned an unfamiliar corner and saw a hair salon, just opening up for the day. He stopped and looked at it, swallowing hard, and thought of Yakov, telling him how beautiful his hair was. Comparing it to Lilia's. 

Then Victor took a deep breath, walked inside, and asked them to cut it all off.


End file.
